Delilah's Dog Days

Delilah Chanson carefully opened her eyes and immediately winced as she tried to move. Everything was sore, something in her ass was stinging, and it felt like she had just been run over by a pack of wild dogs and she really needed to get out of bed, get some water, maybe take a long hot shower. And then she tried to move and felt a tug in her loins. She tried to roll over and her leg bumped into something large, furry, and solid. And, again, her pussy ached. Wincing, Delilah carefully lifted her torso off the... carpet? Why was she on a carpet? Wasn't she in bed!? She looks behind her and sees Whiskey, the German Shepherd she was tasked to take care of this weekend. He was laying on his back between her legs, arms up and clearly asleep. Occasionally, his hind paws would kick or buck and soft whimpers escaped his throat.

But, worst of all, she saw that the two of them were tied together by way of his canine prick and the knot at the base of it.

Panic sets in as Delilah begins to frantically try to roll herself over and pry herself off the canine's inflated knot lodged in her human vagina. She manages to twist herself over and looks down at her spread legs, at the bulge on her lower abdomen from the cock, the cum inside her, and that swollen knot. Her skin was rubbed red raw from her chest to her thighs and she wondered if she had passed out and he'd kept fucking her while she slept... she wouldn't be surprised. She tried to recall just when her memories stopped and she realized the last thing her lust-addled mind recalled was reaching back to stroke Whiskey... and pull him into her again. She shuddered at herself at the sheer depravity of her behavior. To willingly let herself get mounted by this canine... and for him to actually do it!? She simply could not believe it.

But that didn't change the fact that she was knotted and locked in place on the floor of Matthew's mansion. She had to get up. Now. She wasn't even entirely sure what day it was. Probably Saturday evening? Might even be early Sunday morning...

Looking down again, she feels a bit sick to her stomach as she looks at the bulge in her perfect pussy. She'd always kept herself well-maintained. Neatly-trimmed or even waxed and shaven, she made sure to tan properly, get lots of vitamin D, was athletic, people liked her... and now she was sitting on her back, scuffed, scraped, scratched by dog claws, and knotted by it too! She gathers herself and pushes on Whiskey's slumbering body as she tries to work him out of her pussy.

"Ggrr... come on, Dee... get this... stupid dog... o-out of you!" She grunts as she pushes on Whiskey and tries to crawl away from him, desperate to separate the two of them as her pussy aches from his penetration. She had no idea how long he'd been in there or if he'd fucked her after she passed out... but by how much it hurt, she was willing to bet he had. With a sharp push and squeal of pain, Delilah watches through watering eyes as her pussy spreads around his inflated knot. A wet, vulgar schklop stings her ears as air slips in around his knot and her pussy finally releases it as she manages to get past the largest part of the bulb and he springs free.

"YEEK! Agh! F-FUCK!" She skids away from the sleeping canine and screeches as her pussy hurts. As she slides along the carpet, her cunt was already gushing with thin, white canine cum. It spews out from her in copious quantity and soaks into the carpet. Her thighs were a bit dry and sticky, caked with cracking canine cum as her pussy pours out more and more of it. Dog hair covered the inside of her legs. She rolls over and gets on all fours as she forces herself up onto her feet with shaking movements. She presses her hand to her stomach as she stumbles past Whiskey towards the guest bathroom and causes more canine cum to spurt out of her pussy and stain her legs with a fresh wave of absolute shame and humiliation.

She painfully staggers into the bathroom and locks it behind her. She forces herself into the shower and turns it on as hot as she can bear and stands beneath the stream for a moment as the hot water rinses off a bunch of the canine fur and cum from her body before she sinks down to the floor and sits in the stream of water. The 18-year-old sobs as a fresh gush of canine cum pours out of her pussy from her muscles tightening around her vagina and gets washed down the drain with the rest of her tears. Carefully, she reaches between her bare thighs with her hands and teases her lips open, trying to push with her muscles and force out more of Whiskey's cum and shudders with each glob that comes out. She shivered as she gradually felt... empty. Delilah bit her lip as she gently pushed her finger inside of her pussy, trying to scrape and rub out the sticky cum and it just came back gooey, coated in a mix of her and his slime. She rinsed it off and knew she'd have to properly flush it out and stood shakily again, hoping that a douche kit was included somewhere in this crazy man's house. He had a sex dungeon upstairs, he must have stuff for cleaning out fluids... right?

"Though... not like anyone else fucks his dog, you slut..." she mutters to herself as she shuts off the shower and wraps herself in a towel, ashamedly looking into the mirror and poking her head into the hallway to see Whiskey had vanished from the living room carpet. "Shit... where's that fucker. Okay, too soon." She grumbles, stepping out cautiously as she glances at her room and debates getting some clothing on first but just goes to the kitchen in her towel, hearing the sound of Whiskey drinking water as she got closer. The wet "shlop-shlop-shlop" of a dog tonguing water made her shudder at the thought of his warm tongue, something she was now intimately familiar with and snuck past the kitchen and up the stairs, heading for the sex dungeon again in hopes of finding a douche kit.

Pushing into the kinky room, Delilah blushed red and looked at all the toys while going for an unexplored cabinet. She pushed a canine dildo off the shelf and shuddered. Don't have to wonder what that feels like anymore. She thought to herself as she pulled open the cupboard and found just what she was looking for. Among bottles of lube, toy cleaner, condoms, and contraceptives, she found a few prepackaged douche kits and more cleaning products to help wash out after a sticky scenario. She took one and headed back to the hall and heard click-clacks of Whiskey's claws on the floor downstairs and bit her lip. She didn't want to see him right now.

Instead of going downstairs to the bathroom she'd been using or even going into the hallway bathroom beside her, here at the top of the stairs, she goes straight on into Matthew's room and into the master suite bathroom. The presence of the large jacuzzi tub there was a welcome draw and she goes straight for it, blushing as she looks around. It looked... lived in. A tooth brush sat in a cup on the counter, a few smears and stains of soap and spittle were spattered on the mirror, a few towels were hung up and there was a laundry hamper with a number of Matthew's clothes still in it. She didn't want to be too obtrusive, she'd done enough snooping for her own good by now, so she left everything alone and made for the bath tub. Stepping in, she glances at the open door frame leading back into the master suite and just hoped that Whiskey wouldn't come assault her again... she felt odd about locking him out of this room, since Matthew had said Whiskey comes in here often.

"It's fine... you won't let it happen again. He wouldn't have jumped on you if you hadn't offered-" she sucks in her breath as she realizes what she was saying. You let it happen. Delilah shakes her head as she tries to push away acceptance that this was all her fault and sits down in the tub and turns on the water, letting most of it go down the drain as she warmed it to a comfortable temperature and filled a small bottle included in the douche kit with warm water before turning off the faucet. She mixes in a packet from the kit and shakes up the bottle before attaching a rubber nozzle and blushes as she brings it down to her pussy. Gingerly, she pushes the warmed rubber into her red and puffy lips and gives the soft bottle a squeeze.

"Mmpha-" She gasps as a mix of relief and pain emanates from her loins as warm, soapy water rushes into her cunt. The late-teen squeezes the bottle a few more times to swish more water inside herself before pulling it out, letting the soapy, cum-mixed water rush back out and down the drain. It brought a sort of salty, fishy, musky scent with it and made her wrinkle her nose as she pushed the bottle's nozzle back into herself and resumed washing. She winced and whined quietly, trying to stifle herself as she thoroughly rinsed her pussy until she finally sat back satisfied and let her body recover. Panting quietly, she glances at the bottle again and wipes the nozzle off before rolling onto her knees and refilling it quickly. She presses the warm rubber to her anus and gives it a soft push, finding some dried lube around her ring and takes some time to rinse out her ass from the toy play earlier... the cleaning she would have done if Whiskey hadn't-

"If you hadn't had sex with a dog."

Delilah's body pauses as she reiterates what she'd done. There was no avoiding it, she had to face the reality of it now and she really wished she didn't. She carefully draws the douche from her rectum and sets it aside, feeling listless as her rinse dribbles out of her. She blankly reaches over and turns on the bathtub faucet, starting to draw a bath and sitting back in the large jacuzzi jet-equipped tub as warm water lapped at her feet, her bottom, her thighs, and higher and higher. She noticed a bottle of bath soap sitting on the ledge of the posh tub and tips a healthy amount into the water which promptly foams up with floral-smelling bubbles.

The black and brown-haired girl leans back and settles into the contoured seat of the tub and rubs her arms and legs slowly, her mind still grappling with her behavior over the last few hours... or day. She still wasn't sure exactly what day it was, but the fact that Whiskey wasn't complaining about a missed meal suggested it was still Saturday, even if it was late in the day. Delilah slid down until just her head was poking out of her bubble bath when she heard a soft whine. She turns and spots Whiskey sitting a bit anxiously in the doorway between the bathroom and the master bedroom. She hums quietly and leans against the edge of the tub and sees him back off slightly, nervously looking at the tub.

"Oh? Scared of a bath, are you? Good." She says with a huff as the big German Shepherd stares her down, tail thumping slowly against the carpet as he whines and paces his forepaws. Delilah waves an arm in his direction. "Yeah, yeah. You're hungry. Well... you can wait, you did a serious number on me with your... uh, th-that... never mind. Just go sit on the bed and I'll be there soon." She says, knowing the dog wouldn't understand a single thing she said. She sinks back down into her seat and finds the control panel, turning on the massaging jets which causes Whiskey to yip softly as the bubbles begin to burble and float about and trots off to the bed. The dog hops up on the bed and turns to face the bathroom, sitting low and watching intently with a rumbling belly.

When Delilah finally felt ready to face that canine again, she gets out of the bath and tightly wraps herself in a towel, beckoning him along to the kitchen where she gives him his regular food before digging through the pantry and fridge to make herself something. As she waited on dinner to cook, she put Whiskey in the backyard with a promise of a walk after her meal. Once ready, she got onto the couch in the living room and sat back with her legs up, finding herself... uninterested in getting dressed yet. It was warm enough in the house and, as she tried to remind herself, this was supposed to be her frisky summer. At least this way she could feel a bit naughty "streaking" through Matthew's house. At least, that's what she told herself as she sat and watched television on his couch in her birthday suit.

Her attention didn't stay on the TV too thoroughly, however. And quite frequently her hand drifted down to her stomach. Absently, she rubbed it slowly, feeling oddly... hollow. She couldn't quite explain it and right now she really didn't want to.

After dinner and her show, she went to her guest room and got some athletic clothes, bringing them out and laying them on the couch before glancing back at the guest bathroom.

"Kinky summer... last chance. And no more fucking that dog." She mutters to herself as she goes straight for the bathroom and finds the butt plug she'd left in there. Grabbing it and some lube, she heads right back to the living room, a bit red in the face and angry with herself as she wastes no time lubricating it and bending herself over the couch and pushing it in, letting out a soft gasp as it slips into her tight anus.

"Mnf-aah... t-there... you don't need that dog... just... do your job, go home, and that'll be the end of it." She says, trying to force herself to feel pleasures that didn't involve Whiskey and would get her back in a proper mindset. One that didn't want dogs anywhere near her privates. With a forced smile she steps into her sporty, elastic panties and sports bra, pulls on her running shorts and shirt, and goes to fetch a leash for Whiskey before going around the house for his evening walk. During their walk, she remained unwilling, or unable, to determine why she still felt empty. Something she would continue to grapple with for the rest of the day, over night, all through Sunday, and yet more into Monday, when Matthew was supposed to get back...

Matthew Orem sat in his first class seat on the commercial airliner with his partner in the seat beside him quietly scrolling through her phone and keeping herself busy by editing photos, checking dates, compiling notes. The plane's onboard wi-fi let him receive several notices from his home security cameras and he amused himself by watching them in order. He'd been getting notifications all weekend and the several cameras rigged in and outside of his home let him watch that girl, Delilah, spend most of her time nude in his home. She'd often masturbate in the living room with Whiskey outside or even trade places and "sun tan" with a dildo going in and out of her pussy for the duration as she lay nude in a poolside lounger. He thought it was an effort to "be naughty" and misbehave, something that seemed to arouse her quite significantly.

But there was something curious that he noted as he heard her increasingly frustrated grunts, grumbles, and moans through the audio recordings. And that was that she was failing to reach orgasm each time. Or, at the very least, failing to reach a satisfactory orgasm. Even as she raided his toy room over and over again, trying all sorts of sex objects... he was amused that this 18-year-old was seemingly unaware of the line she'd crossed and what it meant for her and her pleasure and that she'd never be quite the same again.

A soft hand pressed onto his upper arm and a body leaned against him. He turned and regarded his partner as she smiled up at him before staring at his phone and the security recording of Delilah. She was in Matthew's upstairs bathroom, bent over his jacuzzi tub with a vibrating butt plug up her bottom while she slammed a knotted canine dildo in and out of her pussy and leaking fluids everywhere as she panted, whined, and cried in her desperate drive to reach another mind-shattering orgasm. One that refused to come.

"She seems... animated."

Matthew chuckles as he puts the phone on standby and sets it on the cushioned armrest between him and the woman. He moved his hand over to brush his seatmate's thigh with slow strokes as a flight attendant arrived to begin taking orders from passengers in first class.

"Yes, she does, Cathy. I'd wager she's a natural. Even if she doesn't realize it. Does that upset you?" He asks, glancing at the gorgeous blonde woman beside him. She was in her late twenties, well-toned and put-together with a blouse that was probably a few buttons too short for anything properly professional and left an ample amount of cleavage exposed. Her black pencil skirt was all that saved her "professional" appearance and made her look like some businessman's slightly-too-sexual secretary. Indeed, that's often what she masqueraded as and was quite good at as she leaned over the armrest and pulled his arm in between her partly-exposed chest with a pout on her face.

The woman, Cathy, squirmed a bit as Matthew's hand rested on her thigh. She held his arm a bit tighter with both of her hands as she glanced away, shaking her head but knowing she was lying. "A... little bit, sir. What are you... going to do about it? She probably shouldn't be allowed to come back... right?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow, his voice turning a bit more inquisitive. "Oh? Does Cathy have some private thoughts regarding the young adult at my house? That's not jealousy I hear, is it?"

Cathy's cheeks reddened a bit as her partner teased her and the flight attendant arrived, leaving her unable to properly retort. "A-ah, I'll have... just... whatever he's having." She mumbled as she rubbed her thighs together. Matthew's hand didn't leave it as he ordered them a pair of waters and a small bottle of alcohol to share during the flight. As the attendant moved on, Cathy spoke up again. "Are they... allowed to remain private, sir?"

Matthew chuckled as he sat back in his seat, his free hand drumming on his phone on the seat rest between him and Cathy. "You know they aren't, dear. Go on, tell me exactly what you think should happen with that poor sex-obsessed girl..."

The flight home from their trip abroad was lengthy, but Matthew did find himself quite entertained by his partner's ideas of what to do to, with, and for little Delilah Chanson...